Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai)

by Toni Kerr

  Landon froze for a split-second then shrugged, possibly confirming the statement. Tristan frowned, trying to recall how he knew. Realistically, he knew very little about Landon, Victor, and the Makai organization they belonged to.

  “Distance is hardly relevant when it comes to traveling.”

  “Yeah.” Tristan gave up chasing the thoughts that hovered just out of reach and looked for a safer way down the rocks. Another bit of information sprang to the surface. “And Victor’s a pyro.”

  “I suppose. Though it’s more of a hobby than a personality trait.” Landon started downhill again, apparently unwilling to continue the subject. Tristan made the drop, slipping slightly in the thawing mud.

  “Natives come up from Shantytown or Westport during certain times of year for mining, so don’t assume everyone in the area is like us.”

  “Got it. What do they mine for?”

  “Nephrite, which is basically jade.” Landon kept to the right when the trail forked. “Some mine for bowenite. It’s hard work when the ground is frozen and dangerous during flood season, which is what we’re in now.”

  They entered a flat clearing where tiny blades of grass with purple flowers stood frozen in a dusting of snow.

  “Wait up,” called Victor, jogging to meet them.

  He remembers I’m an empath, Landon said in thought, and that you’re a pyro.

  So? Victor answered. They’re both true.

  Did they forget he could hear every word? Hearing people’s thoughts all the time had driven him mad until Gram took him in, and taught him how to block it all. But maybe the people on the island did a better job of concealing their thoughts in the first place. Maybe it was still an issue that would plague him here.

  Think about it, Landon continued. When did he find out you were a pyro?

  Oh. Victor remained silent. Are you sure? It never came up after that?

  No. Landon continued onward through the dawn-lit forest.

  Tristan ignored them, determined to remember when he might have learned about Victor, and why it was so important that Landon couldn’t say it out loud.

  “Did you bring breakfast?” Landon asked.

  “I decided I’d regret being occupied in the kitchen if something happened out here.”

  He passed the security line and it’s your security. Don’t you trust it? Landon asked. What could go wrong inside the security lines?

  Of course I trust it! But let’s...ah, I see what’s going on. He’s making you all up-tight and anxious!

  He is not. Landon picked up the pace to a near jog. All I asked was for you to bring him some food. Real food. How long does it take to grab a freakin’ apple?

  I was thinking scrambled eggs with cheese and sausage, wrapped in a tortilla or something. You know, real food. Not an apple. And I’m telling you, you don’t usually get this pissed this easily.

  I’ll take it into consideration.

  Besides, lots can go wrong, Victor added. We don’t know what he’s capable of for one, and he’s a magnet for trouble. We should add it to the list of Dragon Traits.

  Tristan bit back his rising anger.

  Landon stopped on the trail and spun to face them. “Damn it, Victor!” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry,” Victor said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Tristan unclenched his jaw. “Yes. You were. I am not a dragon.”

  Landon and Victor stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

  “Whoever started that rumor was—” Tristan stopped himself before saying it aloud. Murdered. “Mistaken.” And the only other person who’d heard that rumor was Gram, who was also dead. Why would she tell the Makai? How many people did the Makai involve? He opened his mouth to ask, but couldn’t. “Is that the only reason you’re taking me in? Because...it’s just not true.”

  “We would’ve taken you either way,” Victor said.

  “It’s not either way. I’m not a dragon! I never was and never will be. It’s crazy that you even think it’s possible. Unless—”

  “Unless what?” Landon asked.

  “If you guys are dragons, too, maybe that explains the mental power stuff?”

  “Definitely not. Look,” Landon said. “You’re tired, hungry, and you have every reason to be edgy with what’s going on. But you want to keep learning, right?”

  Tristan nodded—not to mention he didn’t have much choice. “I’m sorry. I know I should be grateful, and I am. I really don’t want to cause trouble.” Tristan tucked stringy locks of hair behind his ears.

  I wonder how long Alvi will go before she offers to chop it, thought Victor.

  Tristan could barely remember the last time he stood under hot water and felt the sudden need to scrub.

  “You heard that?” Landon asked.

  “Not on purpose. I just...I don’t know how not to hear. I thought I was better, or that maybe it went away.”

  “You’re doing fine!” Victor said. “We’re the ones who need to step it up a notch.”

  “Sorry.” It might have been easier if they didn’t know, but at least he had hope that things would get better with their help.

  “In our work,” Landon said, “communication with each other is a must. We can’t stop talking to each other just because you’re around, but we can be more careful.”

  Tristan nodded, glancing at Victor, then looked at the ground. “I don’t usually care what people think, but I really do want to fit in with you guys. But I also understand if—”

  “Hey,” Victor said. “We want you here. You’ll love it. And you’ll do great! We can’t be with you all the time, with work, but we’ll get you settled and introduce you to the crowd.”

  Tristan nodded. Life could only get better.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Landon added. “Victor was right. I was overly-anxious, picking you on your emotions, and I should’ve recognized what was happening. I usually do.”

  “We’re all good?” Victor asked.

  Tristan nodded. What else could he do? Landon continued down the trail. Victor stayed behind Tristan.

  “So, you really are an empath?”

  Landon nodded. After a few minutes of silence, the subject was dropped. “You’re free to explore the valley whenever you want. There’s nothing dangerous, but stick to the trails and don’t go farther than you can walk in two days.”

  “Well,” added Victor, “just tell us if you want to go farther and we can make arrangements.”

  A tiny flash of pale green light sped past Tristan’s right shoulder, followed by another. “What are the flying things?”

  Landon turned on the trail, eyeing the surroundings. “What flying things?”

  “Fireflies?” Tristan suggested, though he’d never known they could come in a variety of colors. Yellow, blue, purple....

  “New Zealand doesn’t have fireflies.”

  “But—” Tristan studied a cluster of tiny lights weaving through the trees.

  Victor shrugged.

  “Wait.” Landon held out his arm as Tristan tried to walk around him. “I really don’t see anything.”

  “They’re everywhere!” Above him, twinkling lights paused on branches for brief seconds before taking off again. “They’re all heading the same way. I wonder why?”

  “We’re not following anything.”

  “But didn’t you say there was nothing dangerous, and that we’re free to explore? And we’re not more than two days out, are we?”

  “He’s got you there,” Victor said, grinning at Landon.

  “But you don’t go following something you can’t explain.”

  “How fair is that?” Tristan asked. “I can’t explain anything you guys do. Yet here I am, following you around like a homeless, half-starved puppy.”

  Landon stood, expressionless, then finally stepped aside and waved Tristan forward.

  “But you said—”

  “There’s nothing on today’s agenda and I admit I’m curious.”


  “You don’t think it’s some sort of trap or anything?”

  “We’re too close to home,” Victor said. “Don’t you want to see what it is?”

  “I do, but we’d be leaving the trail.”

  “You shouldn’t leave the trail by yourself, but Victor and I know where we are. Unless Victor objects.”

  “Not at all!” said Victor. “I’m not in the best trailblazing clothes, but lead the way.”

  Tristan left the trail with a light-hearted curiosity blasting away the unease. He forged into the thicker shrubbery, for once feeling excitement instead of fear pulsing through his thoughts and limbs.

  What could go wrong?

  Of course, knowing his luck, the mere thought that nothing could go wrong would ensure something would. He glanced back to make sure Landon and Victor were keeping up.

  The flying streaks of light kept a solid, steady course through the forest. Tristan zigzagged through the brush for the easiest way to follow, increasing his speed to make up for lost time.

  This was a calling; a need to be somewhere as fast as possible.

  He shoved away the warnings to think more carefully about what he was doing. The questions asking why.

  “At least he’s happy about it,” Landon said.

  “Sure! A little exploration will do him good. I hope you like the woods,” called Victor a little louder. “It’s pretty much all we have around here.”

  “It’s ‘wood’, not ‘woods’,” Landon corrected.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “You chop wood, not woods.”

  “You’re the only one who chops wood,” Victor said. “Elevation doesn’t seem to be bothering him.”

  “He’s tired, hungry....”

  “I feel fine,” Tristan said, quickening his pace as the undergrowth thinned out. He could finally see a source of gleaming light in the forest that appeared to be the destination.

  “So, what are we following again?” Victor asked.

  “We’re getting awfully close to Donovan’s.”

  “What?” Tristan skidded to a stop, all his curiosity and excitement vanishing. “Where are we?”

  “We’re coming up on a place where Donovan teaches,” Landon explained. “He’s one of our instructors. You’ll probably be invited into his class, so, it’s good for you to see it during the day.”

  “The day?”

  “He prefers teaching at night.”

  Tristan shut his mouth, trying to let go of pre-conceived ideas about what school should be like.

  “Is this it?” Victor asked. “Are we at the end of the line?”

  “No.” Tristan looked around the forest, not sure which way would lead back to the original trail. The glimmering bugs were fewer and farther between, but there were still enough to follow.

  “Well,” Victor said, “let’s keep on keeping on!”

  Tristan let Landon and Victor continue ahead, no longer hearing their conversation as he approached the festive activity, barely able to breathe in the overwhelming scent of flowers.

  Decorations covered every surface.

  Hundreds of tiny creatures fluttered in small and large groups. The sky itself seemed darker than it had, with masses of stars shining as bright as any full moon.

  One thing was certain—this was not some courting ritual for an unusual glow-in-the-dark insect.

  Flowered streamers hung from the trees. Circular lanterns dangled from web-like threads, each little sphere radiating colorful light in all directions. Musical chirping and whistles and drumbeats filled the air, filled every hole in his heart, with pure wonderment. He’d heard this music before, embedded in the map Gwenna had given him.

  Flying creatures spun through the air as if they’d rehearsed this choreographed dance for years—impossibly perfect, yet seemingly spontaneous. The streaking light each creature made was as much of the dance as their movements.

  A ball of fire, or quite possibly a living thing, shot from a branch above Tristan’s head, releasing silvery flower petals as it arched to the wall of rock on the far side. Something held it for a few moments, then catapulted it to another location.

  He stepped into the clearing, drawn by the joyfully infectious music. He couldn’t understand what they were singing, but spotted a ring of creatures circling a single white rose. He knew without a doubt that that’s why they were here.

  Why he was here.

  A dark blue gem, shimmering like a universe of its own, radiated from the bloom’s center.

  Tristan held out his hand to catch a falling snowflake, surprised when a tiny girl with four iridescent, magical wings hovered inches from his fingers, staring up at him with curious, lavender eyes. Lace clothing barely covered her skin.

  A sudden screech of fright filled his ears. The music faltered to a stop and the circle of singing creatures froze.

  Tristan opened his mouth to apologize as a thick shadow swallowed the starlight above them. The darkness made the creatures seem brighter for a moment. The shooting object changed direction and blinked out when it hit the trunk of a tree.

  The winged girl dropped enough to launch herself from the palm of his hand into the air. She flew for cover in the cracks of the rock wall. Others were doing the same thing in a panicked stampede. Some pulled flowers over themselves and ducked behind leaves, trying to conceal the light emanating from their bodies.

  A moldy smell of decomposing earth seeped down the rock wall, choking out the fragrance of flowers. And something else. A smell he recognized from Ireland. Death.

  He searched for Victor and Landon, unable to determine where they were, or if they were with him at all.

  At the top of the rocky cliff wall, a monstrous ball of leaves rolled forward on twiggy arms. Black holes formed into eyes and a mouth.

  Everything became still.

  The leaves of its face rustled as an exhaling wind filled the clearing. Screams of terror rose again. Creatures dropped from useless hiding places, their lights blown out like candles as the masses shifted from glittering dust to black ash. The rock wall seemed to dissolve in an outpouring of the same dying substance as the wind continued to circle.

  Tristan took several steps back, stunned by the shower of death that blackened everything. The web of lanterns vaporized before hitting the ground. Something fell into the palm of his hand—a girl that no longer glowed. Half a wing twitched into a tiny cloud of dust.

  “What’s going on?” Tristan asked, though he didn’t expect to be answered.

  “King of the Hunters,” the tiny girl said in perfect English. Beautiful locks of pale-blue hair fell away in waves of powder. “I summoned blood of a dragon and sacrifice my own to save our queen’s first born. Be quick! The hunter will soon know you are here!”

  “Me personally?” He’d be hard to miss, being the only giant human in the area.

  High above, the leaf monster was shifting into an all-consuming tornado. Tristan raised the girl closer to his face, willing himself not to notice her bare legs and arms disintegrating inch by inch.

  “Trust no one. Save the first born.” Her sapphire eyes bore into his, and seemed to be the last thing to go.

  “But I’m not a dragon.” Tristan covered the pile of ash with his free hand and glanced up in time to see the leafy tornado descend from the cliff. Sand pelted the side of his face, stinging his eyes, blasting away the petals of the pure white rose.

  The shimmering sapphire disappeared in a wave of dirt and debris and ash of the dead.

  3

  - A NEW HOME -

  TRISTAN SEIZED A LUNGFUL of air as a red splotch, haloed by orange and yellow, blurred before him. In a blink the splotch was gone and Landon was standing in front of him, shaking him with a firm grip on the shoulders.

  “Your eyes,” Landon gasped, before releasing his grip and walking away.

  Tristan glanced at Victor, then down at the pile of ash in his hand, ignoring the comment. “What was I supposed to do?”

  Victor and La
ndon remained silent.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t see any of that....” Tristan scanned the clearing to avoid the obvious answer. Nothing terrible loomed over the top of the rock wall. The sky was neither dark nor light, still in the late stages of dawn. Tristan walked to the wall itself to search for proof that something had once made it magical, while Victor talked to Landon in hushed whispers.

  Morning dew glistened on the wall, half-caked with dirt and moss. There were no traces of it ever supporting the type of life he’d witnessed. All he had was a handful of ash.

  He held it out for Victor and Landon when they approached, but apparently they couldn’t see that either.

  Tristan turned away. If they didn’t suspect he was a bit crazy before, they sure would if he tried to explain anything. He slumped onto one of the worn logs that circled an area of white ash; a fire pit large enough to contain the shack he’d been living in on the island.

  “That’d be quite a fire,” Tristan finally said, surprised that none of the branches hanging overhead showed signs of being singed.

  Had anyone at the festive event survived? What were they celebrating?

  “Te Hono-i-Wairua,” Landon announced.

  “Which is basically why we call it Donovan’s Place,” added Victor. “He has a thing for fire.”

  Tristan nodded, wondering what he should do with the remains of the body lying in the palm of his hand. “What can you tell me about dragons?”

  “Nothing really. Donovan’s doing the research.”

  Every time Tristan heard that name, an icy chill ran through his veins. “Why Donovan?”

  “He has the best access to private sources,” Landon said. “Are you going to fill us in?”

  Tristan sighed. “They were all happy, having some sort of party with music and dancing. Then, something looked over the edge of the cliff.” Tristan pointed to the top of the rock wall with his cupped hands. “Something in the air killed everything. Like its breath was poison. They all…everything died.” He uncovered his hand for a brief moment to make sure he still had proof. He did.

  “Party bugs?”